


and he's blue

by sendmeademon



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: After Karasuno-Seijoh match, Angst, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Smoking, Songfic, tears basically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 16:32:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6247393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sendmeademon/pseuds/sendmeademon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The moment Karasuno defeats Seijoh, Oikawa feels he has to be strong for his team. However, it's Iwaizumi who has to be strong for him. </p><p>"Because Oikawa Tooru is..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	and he's blue

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! I'm so sorry (in advance). They are SO CUTE and Iwaizumi is TOO GOOD for this world and Oikawa you better cherish your bf or else. Also, yeah, I had to imply KageHina because I love them a little too much.
> 
> My first input and it's so sad, but I suddenly had to do it, 'cause I heard Colors and it was like Oikawa, you there??? I'm a sucker for Oikawa, he's too handsome and he has too many problems. My poor baby.
> 
> Hope you like it!

_"Art is not what I create. What I create is chaos."_

 

Oikawa Tooru is a fake. He is a fake as he calms his underclassmen down and tries to cheer them up, patting their backs, giving out bright and convincing smiles, failing aimlessly to make them feel at least not so depressed, as the members in the Karasuno team shout and throw their fists up in the air and laugh out of relief and disbelief, all at once. Iwaizumi knows they don't intend to hurt them, and that it's their first time wining against a team as strong as Aoba Johsai, but it is still unsensitive of them. He'd expect better from Sawamura-san or his vice-captain, but they are too happy to mind.

Seijoh's captain makes fun of Kyoutani's expression, closer to sadness than anger, receiving a long stare, as menacing as wet. He slides an arm around Hanamaki's and Matsukawa's shoulders, pulling them closer to confort them, saying that it _really_ is okay, that defeat is something everyone has to feel once in a while to keep their feet attached to reality, that it's not going to be their last match anyway, just their last chance to make it to nationals together. His voice cracks up a little, but he is recovered in no time, and he dries off Kindaichi's frustrated tears. He has to take care of the first years like a responsible senpai, or so he thinks.

Still, Iwaizumi can notice his hands trembling. It's so obvious that he is surprised when nobody else sees it.

 

_(You’re only happy when your sorry head is filled with dope_

_I hope you make it to the day you’re 28 years old.)_

 

Oikawa Tooru is stubborn. He is determined to not show what he is really feeling, and Iwaizumi wonders how much time will pass until he breaks. After a while, everyone settle down, more or less. Karasuno's members are grinning, cheeks flushed pink, mouths panting hard. The weird duo is sharing an intimate look, exchanging thoughs just by looking at each other like the rest doesn't exist for them. Iwaizumi feels like it's not right to even notice it, because it's just too... He'd say _caring_ in other circumpstances, proud of the other's abilities. He stops gazing at them inmediately. It's none of his bussiness.

They line up to congratulate their opponent and wish them luck against their next opponent, both teams bowing and recognizing their power. Oikawa is smiling arrogantly, confidently, as if they were the ones that had allowed them to win out of pity, as if they hadn't really lost. He avoids Kageyama's intense gaze, refusing to shake his hand, even if his former kouhai tries to chase him down and force him. Fortunately, Karasuno's number ten stops him, muttering a low "Leave him alone, Tobio, we've won," and he does, reluctantly. Iwaizumi thanks that ginger shrimp in his mind. The boy is less of an airhead than he seems.

His teammates are talking in discreet mumbles, sitting on the bench. Oikawa, on the contrary, excuses himself and walks towards the changing room, and Iwaizumi follows him.

 

_(Everything is blue,_

_his hands, his pills, his jeans.)_

 

Oikawa Tooru is reckless. As soon as he passes though the door, he storms in and runs to grab his sports bag, fishing out his medication. He puts two Prozac pills on his tongue and swallows without any water. Iwaizumi knows he is not doing anything wrong. His medication has been prescripted by a competent doctor, he is not doing things on his own. He wouldn't allow it. Also, he needs his drugs when he starts to think his feelings are becoming overwhelming, but that is his main point: He shouldn't feel that he needs them just because he lost a volleyball match.

He has him, after all, right?

He leans his back against his locker and lets himself slide until he reaches the floor. His eyes are blurry and unfocused and his breathing is erratic. He isn't aware that he is not alone as he looks for his roll-your-own tobacco. His slender fingers try to wrap it up nicely, and he lights it up and approaches it to his mouth, letting it rest between his dry lips, slightly apart. He hates it when he smokes.

Iwaizumi is highly noticeable. He is not as tall as Oikawa, but he is not small either, so not much time passes until he sees him.

 

_(Everything is grey,_

_his hair, his smoke, his dreams.)_

 

Oikawa Tooru is shy. They make eye contact and his shoulders move forward to try to hide his embarrassment. He starts to pant harder, franctically, clinging to his cigarette and breathing in large puffs of dirty, toxic haze. He is hurting his body and his mind, but that is not new for Iwaizumi. He has seen his childhood friend, captain, confidant and so on, doing horrible things to himself. He can't forget the scars on his thighs, specially placed so nobody would see them, and how guilty his eyes looked when he showed them to him. "I need you," he had murmured then. Iwaizumi had devoted to do what he could to ease his pain.

Iwaizumi sits by his side, and Oikawa leans on his right shoulder instantly. He hasn't stopped to breathe too fast, and he can bet he is getting dizzy. It's always like that. As they are so close, he can hear what he has been mumbling through his cigar. "Why am I not good enough?" He repeats it like a mantra, and his voice, usually chirpy and too loud and annoying, to be honest, is full of contempt and hate and frustration.

Iwaizumi puts an arm around his shoulders, hugging him loosely like it's something natural for them. He caresses his forearm slowly, almost lazily, and Oikawa adapts to that rhythm to breathe, steadier and firmer, and he closes his eyes. His cigar is already consumed, so he extinguishes it on the floor and places it on top of the box of tobacco.

 

_(You're ripped at every edge but you're a masterpiece_

_and now I'm tearing through the pages and the ink.)_

 

Oikawa Tooru is handsome. He doesn't want to upset him with his stare, but _oh well_ , it can't be helped. He tilts his head to his side the moment his teammate closes his eyes. Then, he appreciates the art Oikawa is. His eyelashes are impossibly long and curled up. His cheeks look soft and pretty even if tears are still coming down. His lips are thin and pale and 'Has he been eating enough?' crosses his mind. His body seems normal to him, though, if Oikawa could ever be normal. He is slender and tall and irritantly perfect. He knows he wouldn't believe him if he said so, but he does anyhow.

"You _are_ good enough", Iwaizumi says obstinately. Oikawa's body shudders against him, and suddenly, his head is on his lap, glaring at him, impatient. Gosh, he is such a spoiled brat. He ruffles a hand through his caramel-colored hair the way he knows Oikawa adores, and he is rewarded with a deep sound, half whimper, half groan. "You didn't lose this match, we did. Don't be so self-centered, stupid." The other laughs softly, not really meaning it, and he nags. "Iwa-chan, you're being too cold!"

Iwaizumi feels annoyed, but he keeps ruffling his hair. He is short-tempered and he wants to punch the guy in the face and go away, but that would be cruel. It would be like abandoning him. He would never be able to do that, by hook or by crook. "Stop that, idiot. It's okay to cry, Tooru." His scold is gentle and patient and Oikawa's eyelashes flutter as his eyes are opened wide. He is surprised to be called by his first name. It's been ages since Iwaizumi had called him that way. He bites his lower lip and hugs his chest, burying his head in the crook of his neck.

 

_(You’re dripping like a saturated sunrise_

_and you’re spilling like an overflowing sink.)_

 

Oikawa Tooru is a mess. His weeps gradually get louder and louder, and Iwaizumi worries that somebody will hear them and come in. Oikawa would hate to disappoint his underclassmen. He would hate to disappoint anyone, in fact. But he doesn't. He is the best setter in the prefecture, for fuck's sake. He remembers how happy he was when he was told he would receive the award, so relieved and shiny and bright. His smile had been so beautiful... So hopeful. Iwaizumi wants to see it again, and he feels useless, but he can't afford to do that. Not when Oikawa is choking on perfectly clean air.

"Come on. You can do it, I'm right here. Breathe for me, okay? Just breathe for me." His lips wander, feeling the salty, piercing tears on his neck. Oikawa tightens the grip on his sweaty t-shirt and cries even harder, but at least he is doing it less desperately, sadder but more peacefully. "That's it. You're going to be fine." Sweet-talking has become his forte. Even a brute would learn a few things if the most important person to them is suffering.

"I love you so much, Hajime, I don't deserve you", Oikawa mutters, so low he hardly hears it. His cheeks don't flush pink, he is not aroused by his words. He is used to them. His captain says that he loves him every two seconds, but it's in times like these when Iwaizumi knows he really means it. He has absolutely no problem with it.

 

_(You were a vision in the morning when the light came through_

_I know I've only felt religion when I've lied with you.)_

 

Oikawa Tooru is straight-forward. He grabs his shirt's collar and makes him look right into his eyes. They are wet and bloodshot, expectant and a tiny bit scared. Instead of answering, Iwaizumi leans in for a kiss. His hands cup Oikawa's chin and he pulls him closer. His cheeks are making his own damp, and Oikawa clings to him like he was drowning in the sea and Iwaizumi was his life jacket, almost painfully grabbing his hair. His tongue feels dry against his and it tastes like smoke and it's disgusting, but it is as sly as ever, and it makes Iwaizumi moan into the kiss. Iwaizumi never feels more at ease than in those moments, when their masks fall off and they are just themselves, and they don't bother to make up excuses.

His lips brushing passionately make impossible for Oikawa to keep on crying, and that is great. He sits on his lap without sparing a though about where they are, and that's not so cool. He always goes overboard and pushes his limits, and Iwaizumi's patience is limited. That idiot. That gorgeous idiot. He pulls off and stares at him, but Oikawa just winks and kisses him again, hungrily. Iwaizumi is starting to feel bothered. 'What the heck, you're getting horny in a changing room. Get a hold of yourself, Hajime!' His conscience is annoying, but he obeys.

"Hey!" Oikawa complains, pouting and lowering his hands so they are caressing his back too low. Smooth bastard. Iwaizumi frowns and knocks on his forehead. "Is there someone home? 'Kay, nobody, as expected." Oikawa sulks loudly and he nuzzles his nose against Iwaizumi's neck like a little kitten, wet from tears. He rolls his eyes at his childish attitude, shaking his head. He's dating a five-year-old.

When Oikawa straightens up again, his eyes are clear and his mouth look way less tense. He is sad, but everyone is. He is, too. It's a pity they had lost after all the training and effort and dreams they had harboured, but that's life. Some have to fall so others arise. "Get off, idiot, you're heavy." He grabs his arms and untie them, holding his hands a little too long until Oikawa stands and pulls him up.

They stay that way some minutes, fingers intertwined and caressing thumbs. "Thanks, Iwa-chan." Iwaizumi shrugs and drags him towards the door. Oikawa is smiling, that charming smile his fans are desperate for, that he shows so much, that he can see whenever he wants. He truly is lucky. "It's fine. You know you have me, dumbass." His statement is rude and angry, yet so cheesy it makes Oikawa laugh loudly at him. Iwaizumi opens the door and goes out, walking away quickly.

Lucky? Well, not so often. Most of the time, he is just a fucking martyr.

 

_(And now he's so devoid of colour he don't know what it means_

_and he's blue,_

_and he's blue...)_


End file.
